Eclipse
by GingerPie
Summary: Dark and light had intertwined to make her the person she is today. A look at the backstory and subsequent growth of Ziva David. Eventual T/Z.
1. Dark

**A/N: This is a somewhat hard look into Ziva's past. As I'm sure you all know, she didn't have the easiest childhood. For that reason, there are some difficult themes dealt with below. This story was rated M for a reason, and that reason isn't only for T/Z smut. Please keep that in mind.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own or make a profit off of NCIS or its characters. I'm simply having fun with my imagination.**

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* * *

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Ziva David had been trained to flirt and seduce since she was twelve and her father realized she would one day grow into a beautiful woman.

She first kissed a boy the day after her thirteenth birthday. It was Asa Zuckerman, the best-looking boy in her entire neighborhood. He was fifteen, and she had been doing her best to entrance him for the better part of a year. She kissed him in the grove of trees across the street from her house, and he tasted of cinnamon and success. The butterflies that appeared in her stomach that day had very little to do with Asa's presence and quite a bit to do with the fact that she had successfully completed her self-imposed mission to kiss him.

When they pulled apart, Asa stuttered that he had to go home. Ziva didn't say anything, and when she saw him walking down the street the next day, she didn't really have an urge to stop him.

* * *

As she grew older, the art of seduction became less about the innocent acts of kissing and holding hands and more about convincing a guy that he wanted to get into your pants. Ziva learned all the ways she could pleasure a man by taking advantage of his sex-ridden mind. To her, sex was never referred to as an intimate thing; it was a tool used to make a man put his guard down. It was a way to extract information or set someone up to be killed.

When she was seventeen, her father asked her if she was a proud Israeli. When she answered the affirmative, he nodded and asked if she would do anything for her country. Again, she answered yes. Her father slid a manila folder across his desk. Inside were the details she needed to know in order to complete her very first official mission.

That mission required her to seduce a rather high-ranking official in the IDF in order to get him to confess his plans to hand military secrets over to Hamas. From his photo, Ziva could tell that her target was an attractive man, but he was thirty-five to her seventeen. Her squeamishness at the age difference made Ziva disgusted with herself. Surely she could trade sex in return for the safety of her country's citizens.

As it turned out, for someone in the military, Abraham Hirsch was ridiculously open. When they met, he was under the impression that she was transferring to his office to do secretarial work. She behaved appropriately for the first couple of weeks, dutifully completing all the paperwork that fell on her desk. After that, she became a bit more daring and flirtatious. She winked when she handed Abraham papers that he needed to see, and she made sure to engage him in conversations that he found interesting.

All of the flirting made things difficult for Abraham. He had a strong sexual appetite, but very little with which he could fulfill it. He was very rarely around young attractive females, so Ziva's daily presence in his office made his desire difficult for him to ignore. Ziva was aware of this fact and took full advantage of her knowledge.

Abraham made his first move three weeks after her initial appearance, dropping a kiss to her lips as she delivered the day's completed paperwork. Her gasp of surprise made it easy for him to run his tongue along her gum line, and Ziva once again tasted success.

Just a few days later, he led her to the back of a weapons carrier. She employed all the tricks she had been taught. She sucked him dry, then worked him back up again so that she could ride him until his eyes rolled back in his head. Abraham didn't appear to know what to do with himself. He kept groaning, kept touching her torso like he was taking possession of her. Ziva catalogued these reactions, keeping her mind clear and controlled. When she squeezed him from the inside, Abraham let out an embarrassing whimper.

"Please, Ziva. God, please."

Reaching her hand out to rub her fingertips against his scratchy cheek, she let him see an innocent smile. Then she slammed her hips down hard, squeezing him once again when he was completely sheathed within her body. Abraham exploded, and his seed erupted into her body. She could feel it, and it wasn't like she expected it was going to be.

After that first night, Ziva began to spend her lunch break with him. He began to grow more comfortable with her, and she was just waiting for the day that he would slip up so that she could finish the mission.

One lunch, Ziva walked into his office to see him going over some military plans. "Well, don't you look busy?" she chuckled, reaching forward to smooth down his hair.

"Ziva! How's my favorite girl doing?"

The hand in his hair meandered down to his chest. "Much better now," she answered with a tiny grin. She slipped into his lap, but made no other actions to continue her seduction. "What'cha doin'?"

"My girl, can you keep a secret?"

Giggling, she grinded down onto his lap, his arousal slowly becoming evident. "What do you call this?"

"Ah, yes, yes." Abraham's voice was light. He suspected nothing. "You are a good secret-keeper, aren't you? Do you recognize the name Abdul Haddad?"

She did, but she didn't tell Abraham.

"He is a man of a different way of thinking than Israel," he informed her. "He knows money. I am merely providing him with some small pieces of information in return."

Ziva's heart began to beat faster. She had just gotten her confirmation that Abraham was indeed involved with Hamas. All she had to do now was kill him.

"Mmm… that's lovely, Abraham. But that's enough work-talk for now, don't you think?" She reached down to unzip his pants while she sprinkled kisses down his chin. While he was distracted, she made sure to keep hold of the hilt of the concealed knife in her own pants. He pushed her pants down just enough to allow his penis to enter her. Abraham groaned, and she sighed with relief that this would be the last time he would do so.

"You like that Ziva?" His eyes were closed and his head rested on the back of his chair.

She brought up the knife. Taking a deep breath, cut a deep slice on the side of his neck, where she knew his jugular vein was. He did not take long to bleed out, so she wasted no time in getting up off his lap. Afterwards, she examined his bloody corpse with a methodical gaze and gave a sharp nod. Then she walked out.

Later, after she had been lauded by her father for a job well done, Ziva stood naked in front of the bathroom mirror. It wasn't until now that she really took notice of the dull ache that had appeared between her legs.

* * *

Inevitably, Ziva grew older. Her missions became more dangerous and complicated. At eighteen, when she was supposed to be in official training for IDF service, she received special permission to continue serving Mossad. She traveled all over the globe, specializing in assassinations and seductions. With hardly any time to relax, it was a pure coincidence that she was at home to celebrate her twentieth birthday.

"Good morning, _yakiri_," her mother woke her with a kiss to the forehead, a nurturing gesture that Ziva didn't feel entirely comfortable receiving. "It's time to get up. I just sent Tali out to pick up some breakfast."

The obedient girl that she was didn't complain, even though she hadn't managed to get a restful night's sleep. She was padding to the bathroom to start her morning routine when she heard the explosion. Instinct took over. Rushing to the window, she took stock of the outside situation before she even became aware of her mother's panicked shouts.

Her street looked the same as always did, except for the fact that a cloud of smoke was slowly moving its way towards her house. She could smell fire and smoke. Suddenly, a sick clench of dread overtook her stomach, and she finally turned to regard her mother's ashen face.

"Ima? Where did Tali go to pick up breakfast?"

Her mother's tears were enough of an answer.

* * *

Tali's death changed her. For a while, she lost the part of herself that allowed her to be anything other than a ruthless assassin. Her father took full advantage of this, sending her on the most dangerous missions. She hardened like a good Mossad officer; her most sensitive parts became shielded by an emotional exoskeleton.

This distance she created between herself and the outside world was something Ziva was proud of. By guarding herself, no death could ever affect her like Tali's again. If she kept herself apart, there would be no pesky feelings to deal with when something bad happened.

It was under this fragile frame of mind that she walked into her father's office to receive a new assignment.

"Good morning, Ziva."

She responded with a curt head nod. "Deputy Director."

Her father smiled, a stretch of the lips that she had not yet figured out meant that he was up to no good. "I have an unusual assignment for you." He slid two folders over to her. Reaching for the top one, she flipped it open.

PROMOTION: David, Ziva

FROM: Field Officer

TO: Control Officer

SUBJECT: Haswari, Ari

A mild flutter of confusion made her blink, just to see if she was reading the file wrong. How was being Ari's control officer supposed to be unusual?

She reached for the second folder.

* * *

Paris, despite its reputation and grandeur, was not a place Ziva had ever had the desire to visit. For one thing, it was entirely too cold. She scowled at the snow crunching beneath her boots, and suddenly had to fight a completely uncharacteristic urge to throw some sort of temper tantrum.

"Ziva! Ziva, hey! Wait up!"

She huffed and rolled her eyes, waiting impatiently for her companion to catch up.

"Damn, you walk fast."

"Then walk faster."

Ziva did not like her partner at all. First of all, she hadn't been trained by Mossad, so she did almost everything wrong. Her name was Jennifer Shepard, and her unprofessionalism was astounding.

"You know, when I first heard that the Israelis were tough, I didn't think that meant you would have a stick shoved up your ass."

Ziva did not respond, purposefully biting her tongue to keep from asking what the hell her partner was talking about.

Beside her, Jenny sighed, "C'mon, Ziva. Let's go do something. Eat. Drink. Climb the Eiffel Tower. Something."

"We are on a mission."

Again, Jenny let out a forceful exhale, this time grabbing the crook of Ziva's elbow. "Actually," she explained, "we just gathered and delivered a whole bunch of intel, so I'm pretty sure we're home-free tonight."

Ziva was not an easy person to break down. She was stubborn, and she was not afraid to hurt someone's feelings. "No Jenny," she repeated, wrenching her arm out of the redhead's grasp. Then she walked away.

Once in her hotel, she made use of the small computer lab on the main floor to send an e-mail to her brother. The writing was vague and generic, just a sister checking in. She did not know if Hamas would read it, nor did she know if Mossad would read it. All she knew was that she was in one seriously fucked up situation.

* * *

As a rule, Ziva did not have friends. She had colleagues. That was why, three days later, the moment she realized she was in a bar with Jenny for no reason other than that she had nothing else to do, Ziva tried to leave. Unfortunately, by that time she had already consumed two mojitos and the world was becoming a bit fuzzy at the edges.

Ari had always teased her for being such a lightweight.

"So… wanna bet?" Ziva couldn't decide if Jenny was drunk or not. It was annoying. Like her.

"Bet what?"

"Betcha you're too much of a hardass to tell me the truth!" Ziva wanted to punch her in the mouth.

"Much of what I know is classified."

Waving that thought aside, Jenny scoffed, "That stuff's boring. I wanna know about the juicy stuff. You know, guys, drugs, illicit activities?"

It really bothered Ziva that she still could not figure out if Jenny had been affected by her drinks at all. This had probably been a bad idea.

Two hours later, Ziva fumbled her way back to her hotel room, grateful that she could walk in a semi-straight line. Grumbling, she plucked her passkey from her pocket. All she wanted right now was a shower. And possibly some peanuts. Apparently they were really good when you were drunk. Maybe that was just for beer though. Ziva wasn't sure; Jenny was more confusing than usual when alcohol was involved.

Pushing her door open, she immediately stiffened at the unexpected smell of sweat and soap in her room. Her hand clasped her belt, fingering the hilt of her concealed knife.

A soft, familiar chuckle greeted her defenses. "Relax, Ziva. It's just me."

Ari pulled himself up from the bed with a small grunt. Walking towards her, he smirked when he took notice of her dilated pupils and unfocused eyes. "It looks as though you had fun tonight."

Ziva shrugged. "I would not call it fun, but it was definitely something," she replied. Her eyes moved lazily across his face, but she frowned at the sight of his arm being held awkwardly against his chest. "What's wrong with you?"

He smiled the same grin he had used to worm himself out of trouble when he was younger. "It's nothing. Just an injury sustained while I was in America."

Her stomach clenched, and she was fairly certain the alcohol in her system wasn't completely to blame. "Were you acting for us or for them?" she questioned softly.

"Now, Ziva!" He laughed away her question, purposefully avoiding giving her an actual answer. "Have you ever heard of a thing called NCIS?"

Thinking of Jenny, she lied to her brother for the first time in many years. "No. What is it?"

"It is an American agency. I took some of their workers hostage a couple days ago," he relayed to her. Ari spoke with a nonchalance that made her want to fidget, and she tried to remember him instead as the boy that had once yelled at their father for locking her in one of the kitchen cabinets.

"What did you want with NCIS?"

"Ah, you know, the usual. Hamas is preparing to attack America again at some point. They wanted to determine if NCIS would be a good target."

"And?"

The look in his eyes changed. Ziva had always been able to understand her brother on some intrinsic level, but the feral gleam of his pupils did not show her anything she wanted to see. "We will see," was his eventual answer to her question. "The agents I've met so far were definitely feisty, to say the least."

"Just remember to tell me before anything bad happens, okay?"

Instantly, Ari snapped out of his odd stupor and grinned. "Well, of course I will, my little control officer," he teased.

Comforted by his familiar laugh, Ziva allowed herself to relax. She scowled at his teasing, slapping his hand away from her cheek and telling him to go to bed. By the time she finished her shower though, he was gone.

She found that she was slightly relieved that she did not have to put up a cheery façade around him. Instead, she closed her eyes and went over their conversation in her mind. She didn't like the cues that she was getting from him; she didn't want to analyze what those cues probably meant.

What if her father was right?

* * *

Ari did continue to keep her informed about the impending Hamas attack against the Navy, but only in vague spurts that simultaneously frustrated and terrified her. As he hinted that the attack was only days away, she reported to her father and begged him to stop it.

"What can I do, Ziva?" he asked in an infuriatingly nonchalant manner. "Ari has told you nothing that would aide us in stopping this attack."

"Then extract him!"

"You know I cannot do that, Ziva. I gave you this mission for a reason. You must complete it."

That was the first time she really hated her father.

* * *

Two weeks later, she walked into NCIS headquarters for the first time. She took note of the barely-contained grief and anger that the people around her seemed to exude, and she felt guilt. Pushing that thought aside though, she only allowed these people to see a false bravado. She played the game of seduction that she knew so well with an agent who was either having phone sex or completely disrespecting his recently deceased partner.

She knew immediately who he was. His name was Anthony DiNozzo, Jr., and he was the senior field agent to Agent Gibbs' team. Ziva knew who all the players of the Major Case Response Team were, right down to the forensic scientist and the assistant medical examiner. Ari had requested that she put together dossiers about them a few months ago.

This meant that she knew some of the most intimate details about Caitlin Todd, the fallen NCIS agent. She knew that she had grown up with three older brothers and two sisters. She knew that Kate didn't turn to religion for comfort until about four years ago, when her younger sister got caught in a pretty bad car accident and passed away as a result. She knew that Kate had a tattoo of her sister's name just low enough on her hip that it was almost on her rear end.

Ziva felt bad for the NCIS agents that were obviously grieving a well-loved member of their team. She felt bad for Kate, a woman that had cruelly had her life taken away from her by… who? Her brother? A random Hamas member?

Despite her own doubts, Ziva tried hard to disregard the fact that everyone around her was actively trying to kill her brother. Meanwhile, she tried to hold on to the hope that both her father and NCIS were mistaken, and that Ari had not switched allegiances. It just didn't make sense to her that Ari may have killed Kate without a good reason. The Ari she knew protected Tali from schoolyard bullies and helped her with her math homework. He did not go around shooting bullets into the foreheads of American agents.

Still, when Gibbs approached her with a plan to lure Ari into his basement, she couldn't help but agree. No matter how much she didn't want her brother to be guilty, she knew that the full truth would have to come out eventually. She had a feeling that Ari wouldn't be able to avoid Gibbs for long.

* * *

After Gibbs' plan was completed, Ziva sat in his basement for a long time, staring into the dead eyes of her brother. Now, she did not try to remember him as he used to be, nor did she try to make sense of the motivations he had given for his unforgivable actions. Instead, she felt oddly compelled to keep some sort of watch over his body. This action was custom to her Jewish heritage, where the deceased were guarded until they were put in the ground. She was by no means a devout Jew, and Ari wasn't even Jewish by birth, so she had no idea why she wasn't leaving him alone.

"Ziva?"

Gibbs' voice broke her concentration, and she looked up to see him standing at the foot of the stairs. She opened her mouth to reply, but found that her tongue felt stupidly swollen and clumsy. Her teeth clenched back together with a snap.

Gibbs didn't try to say anything else. He simply set a warm mug of coffee next to her before heading back upstairs. She felt undeserving of the comfort Gibbs was trying to give, so she didn't drink it until it had gone cold.


	2. Light

**Sorry about the delay on this chapter, guys. I had actually already written this when I published the first chapter, but then I started second-guessing myself, which then caused a horrible spiral anxiety of from me. Eventually, I decided I liked my original idea for this story. **

**And now, I feel like this chapter needs some explanation. It's a lot less angsty than the last chapter, because it's detailing the "light" parts of Ziva's life. Because I think that the first part of Ziva's life was dark and depressing, but what really made her grow as a person was experiencing life in America with NCIS. I really like the contrast between young Ziva and the current Ziva. I hope you guys do too. This chapter takes place after the current season, but it doesn't take Ray or Tony's new blond chick into account.**

**Last but not least, thank you all for your reviews of the last chapter! They made me happy! :) **

**Disclaimer: I make no profit from this story. I'm just having fun.**

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Ziva was humming. It was a new habit, and she found that she enjoyed her impromptu melodies too much to force herself to stop. She smiled to herself as she fastened a sparkly barrette in her hair, loosely keeping her relaxed curls out of her face. Cocking her head, she examined her appearance in the bathroom mirror, and then walked out to her bedroom to make use of her full-length mirror. There, she indulged in a soft laugh and a girlish twirl when she caught sight of herself. She took pleasure in the way the purple fabric of her skirt lifted just slightly into the air, and she gave her outfit approval with a satisfied sound. Today was going to be a happy day.

She made her way out to her car, her silver heels clacking against the concrete of her apartment building's parking garage. She was humming again, and she told herself that she should probably stop, lest she accidentally do it without noticing during the ceremony.

Her journey to a small church on the outskirts of town wasn't met with any dramatic incidents – only a few blaring car horns and extended middle fingers. But she was used to those reactions to her driving by now, anyway. Pulling into a moderately filled parking lot, she parked and got out of her car, remembering at the last moment to grab her purse, an accessory that she usually went without.

"Ziva!" A panicked male voice called her over to the side of the church instead of the front entrance. Following it, she found Jimmy leaning against the brick building, a forlorn expression crossing his features.

"I think I'm stupid," he informed her abruptly as she stepped closer, only to stop in her tracks as an oddly strong scent attacked her nose.

"What happened, Jimmy?"

The young man, who was usually ready with a smile or an inappropriate joke, looked completely out of character with such a deep frown settling on his face.

"Well," he began, "it all started out with my brother. He thought it'd be funny to… well, I dunno exactly what he was thinking, but this was the final result." Jimmy craned his face around to show her the mottled, angry bruise that spanned from his ear to the middle of his neck.

Her gasp made him wince.

"Then," he continued, "I found that I was just… really, really annoyed because everyone kept thinking that my big stinking bruise was just so _hilarious_. So I came out here for some fresh air and stepped in dog crap. Smelly dog crap. I tried to get it off but the smell _won't go away_."

Ziva was confused. "How does all of this make you stupid? I think you're a very intelligent man."

Jimmy brought his hands to his forehead and emitted a sound that resembled a growl. "Can't you see it, Ziva? This is fate! Fate's laughing at me, telling me how horrible my life's going to be once I get married." He was freaking out now. His face was turning red and his hands were beginning to flail about.

"Maybe you could think of them as good luck signs," she suggested as she pulled her phone out of her purse. "Do you know what size shoe McGee wears?"

"Size 10. How the hell is this _lucky_?"

"The bruise could be your 'something blue,' yes? Are you a size 10?"

For the first time in the six years that she has known him, Jimmy Palmer forgot that he was actually slightly terrified of her and stared at her like she was crazy. "Breena already has something blue," he explained slowly, "That's for brides."

Huffing, Ziva texted McGee and told him to meet her by the side of the church. "Stop whining, Jimmy," she commanded. "You know, in Israel it's said to be bad luck to complain on your wedding day."

His eyes grew round. "Really?"

It wasn't, but she nodded her head anyway. "Now, your bruise will be blue. Your suit is new, yes? Your glasses are fairly old…"

McGee turned the corner of the church at this opportune time, and Ziva wasted no time in forcing his shoes off him. "McGee's shoes will be borrowed," she then declared, finishing the requirements of the superstition. Jimmy grinned, taking the offered shoes despite McGee's vocal protests.

"Shut up, McGee. Do this and I'll help you hide Tony's car keys the next time he's making you crazy."

"And you're doing my paperwork for a week."

"Don't be greedy. It's unbecoming."

The argument was futile at this point anyway, as the shoes were firmly on Jimmy's feet. He appeared to be getting back to his chipper self, so she and McGee began to walk away.

"Hey Ziva?" Jimmy's call stopped her retreat. "I like your shoes," he continued once she was looking at him again. "Your feet look nice when they get out of work boots."

Strangely, Ziva felt like blushing. Beside her, McGee moaned a soft, "Oh, Jesus." Then he grabbed her elbow and all but dragged her inside the church.

* * *

Her father stayed in contact with her after he left America seven months before. Most often, he did so by writing e-mails filled with comments about the weather and about how much he missed her. When read aloud, his words sounded like the awkward small talk everybody makes when they're talking to a person they should know better than they really do. She didn't know what to make of the fact that her father wrote about his affection for her as if it should be some sort of consolation prize.

Still, the words he sent her were sweeter and more human than any her father had ever shown her personally, so she saved each e-mail for a couple days before moving it to her trash folder. Sometimes she reread them at lunch, skipping the generic bits and pretending that she didn't know that the only times Eli David showed fondness for anybody was when he felt forced to do so.

Still, as well as she thought she knew her father, she was still completely astounded when a package arrived at her apartment one day with no warning, postmarked Israel. Half curious and half wary, she used her knife to cut through the tape holding the box together. Inside, she was greeted with a note sitting on top of a mass of packing peanuts. Unfolding it, her eyes widened at the sight of her father's blocky handwriting.

_Ziva-_

_Recent events have reminded me that not all missions should be assigned, and that even the most professional officers cannot handle everything. Caution, I am coming to realize, is not for the weak, nor is it something of which to be ashamed. I feel as though this is a lesson that you have already learned, but if you have not, let me tell you that it is the truth. _

Her hands shook as she set the letter aside, her mind spinning at the insinuated apologies in her father's sparse note. If she was understanding his words correctly, he was apologizing for both her mission to kill Ari and her mission in Somalia. This realization passed through her like a blow to the stomach, and she sank down to sit on the kitchen floor with her package, completely missing the chair that was right next to her.

Reaching a hand down to sift through the packing peanuts, she pulled out a familiar soft pink blanket, one that she knew had been used to swaddle both herself and Tali when they had been newborns. Along with the blanket came a worn teddy bear that Ari had given her when her mother brought her home from the hospital. He had bought it with his allowance money, and she had slept with it until she was seven years old.

The last thing she pulled out of the box she recognized from her father's office at Mossad headquarters. It was a familiar photograph of herself, her brother, and her sister, and she had once had her own copy of the picture. However, it had gone down with the Damocles and she found herself getting teary-eyed at the image she thought she would never see again.

Later that night, once she had composed herself and sat down at her computer to send her father a 'thank you' e-mail, she realized that this package was the closure that she had never expected to receive. She had never needed her father's approval to live the life she wanted in America, but she couldn't deny that once she had it, it felt really good to let go of any stressful thoughts of being forcibly brought back to Israel. And while she could take his apologies for what they were, she didn't have it in her to ever forgive him completely. She was okay with that.

* * *

The day Jimmy came back from his tropical honeymoon, his upper body was a shade of red that she hadn't realized humans could possess.

Tony laughed and demanded, "Palmer, don't you know you're supposed to stay _inside_ when you're on your honeymoon?" McGee had chuckled right along with him until Gibbs came up to the three men and doled out three successive headslaps.

"What are the three of you doing standing around?"

"Boss, there's no cas-"

"Petty officer was found dead in his garage. Grab your gear!" Amid the hustling that followed this statement, Gibbs reached out and smacked the back of Jimmy's head one more time. The stunned medical examiner stopped and turned around, giving Gibbs a confused look. Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "That was for getting sunburned. Now go before I decide to give you another one for getting married."

Ziva was still snickering at Jimmy's panicked scamper as she entered the elevator.

* * *

Even though she was now an American citizen working for a stable federal agency, her past did periodically come back to haunt her. She had never been prone to public displays of emotional weakness, but her dreams did have a habit of striking when she least expected it. Oftentimes, the dreams would come when she was in a deep sleep, so she had to make more of an effort to claw herself back into wakefulness.

This time, the dream had snuck up on her so successfully because she hadn't even realized she had fallen asleep.

If she had hazarded a guess, she would have said that she had only gotten about five hours of sleep in the past three days. It wasn't that they were working on a case that was particularly heart-wrenching or dangerous, but the MCRT was having a hell of a time whittling down their suspect list. Each time they thought they had nailed a suspect, new information would pop up and Gibbs would send some combination of the three of them out to collect more pieces of the figurative puzzle they were trying to solve. To say the least, working that way was exhausting.

So maybe she should have expected that she would end up using her paperwork as a pillow.

Her dreams were not nightmares, but that didn't mean that they weren't unsettling. Tonight, she saw flashes of Ari's cocky grin that he showed Gibbs right before she killed him. She saw her father's smile at the sight of the bullet hole that she had put through his only son's forehead. She saw Liat, standing next to Malachi with an air of self-assurance about her. She saw a tiny pink blanket and a well-loved bear.

A hand on her shoulder startled her, and she woke up earlier into her dream than she usually did. Sitting up abruptly, she turned wide eyes onto Tony, who was kneeling beside her chair.

"Hey," he greeted, his voice soft to match the darkened office. "We got the guy." He didn't take his hand off her, instead brushing his palm down to rest on her back. This contact, along with her sleep-addled brain, did not allow her to understand what he was saying at first.

"Hmm?"

A soft smile crossed his face before the hand on her back started pushing her out of her chair. "C'mon, sweetheart. It's time to go home."

She allowed herself to be pulled out of the building by her partner, and she even conceded that she was probably too tired to drive herself home. He pulled up to her building and sent her off to bed with a, "Sweet dreams, Ziva."

The next morning, as she woke up to the glow of sunlight coming through her bedroom windows, she wrinkled her forehead as she remembered Tony's gentleness the night before. He had called her "sweetheart," something that he had only ever done before when he was annoyed with her. She wasn't sure she was ready to analyze the repercussions of his use of a pet name to coax her out of the office and into her bed.

* * *

The explosion echoed throughout the entire building. Immediately, she was up and running towards the stairs. She could hear Tony, McGee, and Gibbs doing the same thing behind her. Ziva reached Abby's lab first, and was relieved to see the forensic scientist locked in an embrace with Ducky.

"Abs! What the hell just happened?" Gibbs demanded, his hand letting go of his gun to gesture at the smoke billowing out of the lab's doorway.

Abby didn't answer, instead exclaiming "Gibbs!" and launching herself into the team leader's arms. Gibbs dutifully refrained from immediately demanding an answer and returned the embrace, passing off the gun in his hands to Tony.

"What happened, Abs?" The question was softer now that everyone had calmed down, and Abby took a deep breath before she answered.

"I was in the middle of processing that weird liquid you guys found in the container next to Lt. Grey's body. The Mass Spec results only came back with one significant molecular fragment, so I thought the substance was pure. I was trying to characterize it when-"

"Abby. The bottom line."

She blinked and nodded, her pigtails wobbling back and forth. "I don't think the substance was pure, Gibbs. Depending on how you use it, Mass Specs can ignore the significance of a compound called methylene chloride. I think our killer was counting on that, and combined that compound with some sort of metal that would cause an explosive reaction when it was heated up."

"So our killer probably has a background in chemistry."

Abby nodded, closing her eyes when Gibbs kissed her forehead before heading back upstairs. Ducky, now that he realized that the damage to the forensics lab was not as bad as he had feared, headed back to autopsy after giving the scientist one more hug.

Once the two elder men had vacated the scene, something appeared to seize McGee. He brushed by Ziva and immediately grasped Abby's body in what could only be called a possessive embrace. She noted that his back was moving rapidly up and down, evidencing heavy breathing. Abby's arms snaked around his waist, and Ziva heard her mumble something to McGee that she couldn't decipher.

A light touch to her lower back caused her to shift her gaze to Tony, who tilted his head in the direction of the stairs. They walked silently until Abby and McGee were out of their sight, and then Tony whispered, "I think Gibbs should let McGee interrogate whoever made that happen."

"Why?"

Tony gave her a sidelong glance out of the corners of his eyes, and then sighed. "Trust me, Ziva," he assured, "It would be very therapeutic for him."

* * *

Even for the past few years, Ziva had been very good at keeping her birthday quiet. She didn't like celebrating it; she felt as though doing so would tarnish Tali's memory. How could she celebrate on the day her little sister died?

However, keeping her birthday low-key was no easy task with a co-worker like Abby Sciuto. Still, year after year, she had managed to talk the excitable forensic scientist down to a cupcake or a couple of balloons.

Apparently, that tradition did not extend to this year. She walked into the bullpen to find her desk draped with black and pink streamers. Some green balloons were tied to the back of her chair, and a cupcake with copious amounts of frosting sat next to her computer keyboard. She stopped, slightly stunned that Abby had gone to such an effort.

Gibbs was the only one sitting at his desk. He looked up, and when he caught sight of her face he graced her with a small smirk. "Happy birthday, Ziver."

As the day progressed, she began to understand why she had never made a big deal out of her birthday before. All the attention she was getting was really disconcerting. First, McGee had rigged her computer to play the birthday song when she turned it on that day. When he walked out of the elevator seven minutes later, he was greeted by the glare that used to intimidate him almost as much as Gibbs' headslaps. Today, he found her irritation amusing. "Happy birthday Ziva!" he exclaimed happily.

Tony was even worse. He referred to her as "Birthday Girl" the entire day, and she was so bothered by this that she almost asked him to start calling her "Probie" again.

She had never been so happy to see the end of a workday. She ducked out of the building undetected and was just settling down for a relaxing night at home when she heard a familiar pounding at her door. Groaning, she swung open the door to reveal Tony, grinning in a way that she was sure he thought was charming. Before he could say a word, she pointed her finger up at his face in a threatening manner. "One word, DiNozzo, and I may have to hurt you."

With a chuckle, he allowed his fists to spread open, and he surrendered to her harsh words. "C'mon, Ziva," he said next, "we're going out to dinner for absolutely no reason. 'Cause, you know, this is just an ordinary day and there's nothing we could possibly be celebrating."

His silliness made her smile, and she couldn't bring herself to do anything but grab her jacket. For the first time since Tali's death, she was allowing herself to actually have fun on her birthday.

* * *

When it really came down to it, the day that changed Ziva's life only happened because of an accident. A car accident, to be more precise. Some idiot ran into her at a red light, leaving her without a vehicle for an indefinite amount of time.

Tony, of course, had found her predicament utterly amusing. "Oh, that is karma, baby!" he crowed. "Can you imagine how many people you've done this to in the past seven years?"

In response, she twisted his ear until he agreed to drive her around town the next day so that she could complete her errands.

When he arrived at her door, he only knocked once before he decided to let himself inside her apartment, which meant that he caught her in the midst of setting her childhood teddy bear against the picture frame containing the photo of herself and her siblings.

"Aren't you a little old to be playing with toys?"

"I should have locked the door."

"But you didn't. What'cha doing?"

"Cleaning."

The teddy bear on her living room shelf had caught his attention, and she sighed in resignation. She knew from experience that Tony's curiosity was almost insatiable. He walked up to the shelf and examined the toy before his eyes moved on to the adjacent photo. When he spoke, his tone was gentler than she anticipated. "Is this you?"

She looked up, and he was pointing at the girl in the middle of the picture. "Yes," she confirmed, and she was surprised to find that her voice was softer than she had meant it to be. "With my sister and my brother."

"Tali and Ari," he named, pointing at each one respectively. When he took his eyes off the photo and looked down to make eye contact with her, she was surprised at the adoration that was visible in his expression. "You were a cute kid," he informed her.

She didn't know what to say to that, and she found that his eyes were weirdly captivating today. The light in his pupils told her that he knew what he was doing to her, but to his credit, he didn't make an inappropriate joke to break the moment.

Instead, he lifted a hand to her curls and kissed her.

She was unprepared for the action, and she was really unprepared for the feelings that came with it. She lost her balance, stumbling into Tony's chest. Apparently he found that move pleasing, because he smiled into her mouth and wrapped his arms around her waist. His kisses became more insistent, and she slowly brought her arms up to encircle his neck.

When his tongue slid against her lower lip, she only hesitated for a second before parting her lips and allowing him entrance. He groaned his thanks before focusing on giving her the most romantic kiss she had ever received in her entire life. She whimpered when he ran his tongue against her own, and then she pulled back when she realized that she was sorely in need of oxygen.

"What was that for?" she questioned softly, her heavy breathing distracting both of them from the seriousness of her query.

"That was me finally getting the balls to do something I've wanted to do for a long time," he informed her, not waiting to see her reaction before he started peppering her cheek and neck with kisses. Then he kissed her lips again, cradling her cheeks like she was something precious. When he stroked one hand down and underneath her shirt, she flinched, realizing that she had inadvertently refrained from using any of her normal techniques to pleasure a man. She reached underneath his shirt as well, intending to take it off, but his fingers pinching at her sides stopped her.

"Slow down, okay Ziva?" he murmured, "Let me do the guy thing."

She wasn't quite sure what he meant by that, but she obliged his request by wrapping her arms back around his neck and ruffling his hair through her fingers.

Eventually, he led her down the hall to her bedroom, where he took great pleasure in getting her out of her clothes as slowly as possible. When he freed her of her shirt, she had reached behind her back to undo her bra, but he stopped her by pushing her body back down on the bed and tickling her stomach. She let out a girlish giggle, and he raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"You really are a girl, aren't you?" He punctuated this statement with another dig to her ribs.

"I should hope so, Tony. Or were you planning on undressing a man at some point today?"

He rolled his eyes at the dig he had obliviously set himself up for, and then went back to work making her feel good. He touched and tasted his way down her torso, tracing the outline of her bra with his pointer finger. The feel of his fingertips on her bare skin distracted her, and she drew in a great shuddering breath when he pulled the scrap of fabric from her chest and replaced his fingers with his lips.

That particular move caused her lower body to warm with a heated desire that was so unexpected that she couldn't help the strangled moan that escaped her. His mouth felt so ridiculously good on her body, but she just couldn't seem to let herself relax and enjoy the sensations. This wasn't what sex was supposed to be like for her.

"Tony…" She didn't call his name out in a breathless whimper or with reckless abandon. Instead, her voice was pinched and short. She gave a not-so-gentle tug to his hair, and he looked up to meet her gaze.

"Tony," she repeated once she was sure she had his attention, "You have to let me…" She moved her hand from his hair to the middle of his back, massaging there in an effort to take some control of the situation. He allowed her ministrations for only a second before taking her hand in his own, intertwining their fingers and moving up her body so that he could speak directly into her ear.

"Relax," he ordered, and she was surprised to hear the gravely edge that his voice had adopted. He took her earlobe into his mouth, and she gritted her teeth to keep back another gasp. As attuned to her as he was, he didn't miss this, and so wasted no time in pulling back so he could look into her eyes.

"Do you trust me?" His voice was gruff, and she could feel his little puffs of breath on her cheeks, and she felt her stomach bottom out. She nodded her head without actually realizing it, but she was giving a truthful answer. She _did_ trust him. She may have been wrong to trust Ari, and she may have been wrong to trust Michael, but she was not wrong to trust Tony.

It was this realization that allowed her finally let go of the nervous tension that had taken hold of her body. She gave herself up to Tony's hands and his lips and his tongue.

Then, when both of them were naked and they were just a centimeter away from being connected, Tony stopped, letting her growing desperation reach its peak. She let her displeasure at his non-action be known with a groan and a glare.

He smiled at her frustration, leaning forward to kiss the petulant frown off her face. "That's what I'm talking about, baby." Then he entered her with a firm thrust of his hips, and she gifted him with a breathy moan of pleasure.

Together, their bodies began to move. She felt overwhelmed by the sensations Tony was creating in her body, but at the same time she wanted to feel even more. Desperately, her fingers reached for him, and they held tight to his shoulders, the first part of him they found. He leaned down to kiss her, and his tongue started mimicking the rhythm that their lower bodies were already following. She pulled him closer, a move that allowed their bare chests to rest together.

"Ziva…" The word was only a murmur in her mouth, but it made her heart tighten and she couldn't stop her lips from stretching into a smile. Tony leaned out of the kiss and reached a hand out to burrow into her hair, and the smile that he gave her in return made her think that he was going to do some other tender move that she had never really expected out of him.

But then she felt the fingers of his other hand begin to move in hard, unforgiving circles around her clit, and she tensed so hard and so unexpectedly that she couldn't do anything to stop it. For what seemed like an endless amount of time, the only thing that Ziva was aware of was Tony: he was kissing her face, rubbing her clit, and was continuing to stroke in and out of her body. Soon, she felt him give into the pleasure as well, and her lower body warmed slightly in response.

Afterwards, they laid together in silence. She couldn't remember ever feeling so at ease. She liked it.

* * *

Many months ago, her father had placed a miniature version of Israel's flag in her pencil holder. It had been there since, gathering dust. She hadn't really felt the urge to move it.

Today she did. She plucked out its holder and stuffed it in the bottom drawer of her desk, the one she hardly ever opened.

Israel, while it would always be an important part of her past, was no longer her home. America was her home.

With a contemplative gaze, she studied the three other men sitting with her in the bullpen. She couldn't help the curious burn her stomach developed when she looked at Tony.

She hadn't thought that she would ever be this happy. She still didn't know what she did to deserve the joy that she was getting in America, but she was done questioning it. All she could do now was try and live her life to the fullest.


End file.
